Custer at the Alamo

by Gregory Urbach

  “Spotted Eagle and Slow, you may remain here with Gray Wolf until the moon sets, then you must take food and rest. We have enemies to fight,” I said.

  “Yes, General,” Spotted Eagle gratefully said, for he feared to be ordered back to the tents with the women. I would not shame him so fearfully. Slow had no such apprehension, secure in his own path.

  “You’ve got unusual problems,” Crockett said, joining me on the walk through the dark woods.

  “Your problems are just as bad.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I need your help, David. There might also be a few rewards involved, if you’re not shy.”

  “Don’t know that anyone has ever accused David Crockett of being shy. Need me to lead one of your troops? It’s been awhile since I led the Tennessee militia under Andy Jackson against the Creeks, but I reckon there’s enough spunk left for another campaign.”

  “The campaign I’ve got in mind is bigger than that. Maybe the biggest fight we’ve seen since George Washington whipped the British. Are you ready for a scrap that big?”

  “You’re a corker, George, that’s for sure,” Crockett said. “Just tell me where to march.”

  “I’ll tell you where we’re going to march,” I happily replied.

  * * *

  I had made my decision, now it was time to talk with the men. For obvious reasons, this was not a conversation to have in front of the Texan volunteers. I ordered my immediate command and some of our friends into the lower pasture beyond a thick growth of trees. We took food, blankets to sit on, and I allowed them to bring the captured spirits, for a bit of cheer often makes hard choices easier.

  “What’s going on, Autie?” Tom asked, rushing to my side.

  “Taking your advice, Tom. Giving the men a choice,” I replied.

  “Are you sure? Now?

  “You were right. They should know what they’re fighting for.”

  “What are they fighting for?” he asked.

  “What we all fight for, little brother. Now take a seat and listen,” I said, going to the edge of the clearing.

  The command was drawn out in a semicircle, most sitting on boulders or tree branches. Some had heavy jackets, others buffalo robes. It was cold enough to see the frost on their breath. The wind had died down and stars crept out through the clouds. The moon was close to full. We had scared off the game, but there were plenty of birds chirping in the trees and the occasional fish leaping from the stream. Butler and Hughes had gotten to the pasture first, lighting a bonfire. The flames climbed ten feet into the dark sky. I stood near the fire, leaning against a fallen tree trunk, the Cibolo flowing behind me in the darkness.

  “Fellas, I’ve asked Colonel Crockett to join this meeting,” I said, taking an informal approach. “He knows more than he probably should. We probably know than we should, too, because we’ve gotten ourselves into quite a situation.”

  Crockett took off his hat, grinned, and waved the Springfield Model 1873 I had given him. The rifle that had belonged to Corporal Martin. A bandolier with fifty rounds of ammunition hung over his shoulder. The men cheered. Everybody cheered Davy Crockett.

  “Other than the loss of our family, and our friends, I know you’re all wondering about three things: what is the command going to do? What am I going to do? And what are you going to do?” I continued. “All are fine questions. First, let me tell you what you’re going to do.”

  The men glanced about, the expressions mixed. Most looked encouraged to have leadership, a few frowned with resentment.

  “As far as I’m concerned, this is still the Seventh Cavalry. 1876 or 1836, it makes no difference. Our duty is to serve the people of the United States. And I believe we’re in an historic position to do that. A position that can save half a million lives. Some of those lives are your fathers, brothers and uncles. Because of this great responsibility, I expect each of you to continue following orders.”

  I walked back and forth before the group, hands behind my back, staring at a few who clearly disagreed. I stopped to look Tom in the face. He was completely mystified. Good. Cooke and Keogh were clueless as well. Even Slow showed an unusual curiosity.

  “Gentlemen, Texas must be free of Santa Anna’s tyranny,” I announced. “But a free Texas must never join the Confederacy. A free Texas must encompass true American values. A free Texas must never own slaves.”

  I felt a wave of sudden energy as they began to suspect the scope of my ambitions. Tom sat down on a log, his mouth open. Cooke was scratching his whiskers.

  “I think we can create a free Texas,” I said, taking a confidential tone. “One that will hang back from the quarrels of the North and South, and when the day comes that the Union has reconciled itself, we can join that Union with a clear conscience. Proud to have upheld our ideals, and secure in the knowledge that we will emerge a better nation. The kind of nation that President Lincoln wanted us to be.”

  I stopped again near the fallen tree trunk, leaning back just a touch, arms crossed before me. Every man in the command was leaning forward, hanging on my next words.

  “It’s also true that, as the core the Texas army, there will be benefits. Generous benefits,” I confided. “Each member of this battalion who survives the coming trials will achieve wealth beyond your grandest expectations. That is my promise to you.”

  The men sat quietly. Despite my reputation as a blustering braggart, and sometime exaggerator, none doubted my sincerity.

  “Before I continue, each of you has a decision to make,” I suddenly announced, hearing a few murmurs.

  I began pacing again to keep their attention. To create a moment of drama, I sat down on a bent branch of cottonwood and I fiddled with my sword, laying it across my lap. The blade bounced softly on my knee. Lawrence Barrett would have been proud of me.

  “Anyone who wants to forgo this obligation, to leave the Seventh Cavalry, may do so now,” I finally continued. “But if you do, you will leave completely and forever. You will not be taking your Springfield or Colt; those belong to the army. Your horses, saddles and equipment also belong to the army. Sergeant Major Sharrow will help you find a musket and a powder horn. Bill Cooke will see you have food and warm clothes. You can walk away from this army and never look back. But if you are going to walk away, you must do it now. Get up and leave, because the business of this army is no longer your business.”

  I stood up and waited for the first deserter, my fists clenching. I hated the thought of letting any of them go, but there was really no choice. Better to weed out the cowards now. Tom came to stand at my side, then Cooke, Keogh, Smith and Harrington. Each was so proud they could burst. I noticed Kellogg, Dr. Lord and Bouyer standing in a group off to the side. They seemed pleased. Morning Star, Walking-In-Grass and Spotted Eagle sat on a blanket near the bonfire, interested but not absorbed by the problems of white men.

  Private Daniels slowly rose to his feet, then Privates Cooper and Schmidt. Daniels waved to a few friends and left the circle. Corporal George Brown got up and followed. They were tactful, thankful enough to escape that they didn’t gloat. Daniels and Brown were soon joined by Private Nathan Short, one of Tom’s men.

  “Sorry, fellers, I already got kilt once,” Short apologized before disappearing into the dark. I nodded for Sergeant Major Sharrow to make the arrangements. When it looked like no one else was leaving, Cooper and Schmidt glanced at each other and discreetly sat back down. The meadow fell quiet.

  I expected more men to rise up. At least twenty or thirty, if not half the command. Perhaps a few wanted to, but brothers- in-arms are loath to turn on their own. Even more had no desire to wear buckskins and carry a squirrel rifle the rest of their lives. I held my shoulders erect, a hand gripping my sword.

  “Let me be clear about this,” I said. “If you stay, there is no changing your mind later. You will be members of a new army. A grand and noble army. And a prosperous one. But you will not be allowed to back out of your obligations. I will track deserters dow
n, even to hell itself if necessary. I’ve done it before, so you know I’m telling the truth.”

  “And if my brother doesn’t catch you, I will,” Tom said, cocking his Winchester.

  “We all will,” Harrington added.

  The men remained quiet. None made an effort to leave, much to my amazement. Perhaps being lost in this strange time had created a greater bond than I realized.

  “Okay then. Raise your hands and swear,” I instructed.

  Again I had caught them by surprise. I remembered how the oath I’d taken on the parade ground at West Point in 1857 had bound the class together. I hoped it would again. And I hoped I was doing the right thing, for I’d reached unfamiliar ground.

  Once everyone was standing with their hands up, I glanced at the moon, caught my breath, and began the ritual.

  “I solemnly give oath, by the Grace of God, to serve as a dedicated soldier of the Seventh Cavalry. I will fight for the constitution of a free Texas, uphold its honors, and obey my officers. So help me God.”

  “So help me God,” the men concluded, having repeated every word.

  “I think that deserves a cheer,” Tom said, raising his fist. “Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah! Hip, hip, hurrah!”

  The men smiled and seemed to relax. Bottles were passed around. Some threw off their fur hoods to proudly don their cavalry hats.

  “Okay, now that we’ve settled what you’re going to do, I’m going to tell you what the command is going to do. I’m even going to tell what I’m going to do,” I said, once again sitting on the log. “At sunrise, I’m dividing the regiment.”

  “Jesus, Autie. Again?” Tom whispered none too softy. It made the men laugh.

  “It’s finally your chance at an independent command, Tom. Time to prove who the better general is,” I said. “And when this is over, we’ll see who has the most medals.”

  “I’ve always won all the medals. You’re just a general,” Tom said, the men laughing again.

  “And being a general allows me to say something else. Now that those gutless quitters have left, I want to speak about something you’ve all been thinking about. Something you’ve earned with your loyalty. This is 1836, not 1848, and no one but us knows how much gold there is in California. Some of you might want to ride out right now and go look for it. Hell, boys, I’d like to do that, too. I love gold as much as the next man. But there’s a few good reasons why we can’t.

  “You’ve got to keep in mind, John Sutter hasn’t built his mill on the American River yet. There’s nothing out there but wilderness and Indians. And California still belongs to Mexico. Even if you did find gold, the Mexican government would confiscate it. And they’d probably hang you. After that, they’d send in an army to enslave the Indians and keep the gold for themselves. That’s how the Spaniards have done it since the days of Cortez, and they aren’t going to change now.”

  “Have you got a plan, General?” Private Torrey of E Company asked, a timid lad barely out of his teens, but excited by the possibilities.

  “Yes, Billy, I do. Maybe I wasn’t always the best student, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn anything. Rome was just a small Italian city, but with good weapons and martial discipline, they created an empire. Napoleon had a ragged army short of supply, but blessed with high spirits and a vision. They conquered all of Europe.

  “Now we’re a small band. A band of brothers, like Henry V said before the Battle of Agincourt. We’re outnumbered and fighting in a strange land, but we’ve got the best weapons in the world. And we’re a trained force, unlike the rabble on both sides of this Texan Revolution. Through the Civil War and our years on the plains, we’ve seen more blood and suffered more trials than all of our adversaries combined. What we lack in numbers, we make up with experience. And guts.”

  I paused to catch my breath. Much of this hadn’t even occurred to me before I began speaking, though the ideas had been building up for days. Now they were bursting forth spontaneously. I walked among the men, then sat down on a rock, feeling them wait for my explanation. Like the Bard at Niblo’s Garden, I could feel the power over my audience.

  “So you see, my plan is to win freedom for Texas. And California. For all of the American Southwest, and even those provinces of Mexico who want to join us. Then we’ll go to the gold fields of California, and the silver mines of Nevada. We’ll build ranches in Texas, mansions in San Francisco, and travel on railroads that we’re going to build from the Caribbean to the Pacific. And if any one of us dies old and poor, it will be because of too much gambling, too much drinking, and too many women. Does that suit you, Billy?”

  “General, that suits me just fine,” Private Torrey said.

  “How about the rest of you boys?” I asked, walking to the bonfire and standing near the warmth of the flames. “Do you want to create an empire, or become squirrel hunters like those deserters?”

  “Can I build my mansion in Monterey, sir?” Corporal Briody asked.

  “Johnny, you can build your mansion any damn place you please,” I replied.

  * * *

  It was already late by the time our conference ended. The men spent the rest of the evening preparing their equipment for a fast march the next morning. The officer call lasted a little longer. Having assembled in my command tent, I huddled with Tom, Cooke and Keogh, joined by Crockett, Bouyer and Dr. Lord. Captain Seguin was busy organizing his Tejanos. At the last minute, Slow and Morning Star entered to sit quietly in the corner. Mark Kellogg nestled on a stool near the door, wearing his spectacles in the dim light and taking notes.

  “That was quite a speech, Autie. How’d you ever think of it?” Tom asked.

  “Actually recalled a little bit of history. During the English Civil War, when everything was going to hell, Oliver Cromwell created the New Model Army. It was an independent command. Independent of the politicians. They brought order out of chaos. And it didn’t hurt to remember that Cromwell was a cavalry commander.”

  “You’re comparing yourself to Oliver Cromwell?” Kellogg asked, his sarcasm uninvited.

  “No, Mark, I’m not comparing myself to Cromwell. Cromwell was a Puritan. I’m a Methodist,” I responded.

  The men laughed. Kellogg looked embarrassed.

  “So what do we do now, George? Attack?” Bill Cooke asked.

  The men laughed again, and so did I.

  “With the militia companies and Seguin’s men, we’ve got nearly two hundred and fifty reinforcements,” Crockett said, not getting the joke. “That should hold Santa Anna off until Houston arrives.”

  “Colonel Crockett, let’s not fool ourselves. How many men can Houston bring? Three or four hundred?” I answered.

  “Not enough. Not nearly enough,” Tom said.

  “We still need Fannin,” Crockett admitted.

  “And you’re the one who has to get him,” I replied.

  “I’ve got to get back to the Alamo. I made a promise,” Crockett protested.

  “I will apologize for you,” I said.

  “George, we both know why that won’t work,” Crockett respectfully disagreed. “If I don’t go back, everyone will know I broke my word. Even if we survive, no one will give me any respect. And I wouldn’t deserve none.”

  “It’s true, Autie,” Tom said, nodding his head.

  They made a good point. I noticed Slow watching from the corner, his black eyes searching my thoughts.

  “David, I suppose you’re right, so this is what we’ll do. Tom, you’re going to take C Company to Goliad. Bill and Kellogg will go with you. Bouyer will scout. Take command of the garrison there and return to San Antonio at a full march. No wagons, no cannon. Travel light and fast.”

  “And the rest of us?” Keogh asked.

  “Myles, you’ll be taking I Company west of the San Antonio River,” I said. “Your mission is to harass the Mexican line of supply. All Santa Anna is thinking about now is reducing the Alamo and moving east. A blow from behind will shake his confidence. Can you do that?�
��

  “Hell, sir, it will be just like me and Stoneman done in Georgia. Good times,” Keogh replied.

  “Am I guarding the rear, George? Again?” Smith asked.

  “Fresh, E Company will patrol east of San Antonio. Keep the Mexican cavalry off us as long as you can. Harry, you’ll move to the Gonzales Road with our wagons and artillery. Establish a strong position to protect our line of supply. You’ll have Dr. Lord and our Mexican allies.”

  “What will you be doing, sir?” Harrington asked.

  “I’m taking the rest of the command into the Alamo.”

  “What if the men at Goliad don’t come?” Crockett asked.

  “Tom and Bill can be pretty persuasive,” I assured him.

  “We should hope so, but what if Fannin still refuses?” Tom asked, worried by such a responsibility.

  A heard a snort of derision from the corner where Mitch Bouyer was sitting. The scout was bundled in rawhide and a thick fur cap. His cheeks were flushed from too much drink. Bouyer glanced in my direction without apology.

  “Hell, Tommy boy, you’re going to take command away from the craven bastard whether he likes it or not,” Bouyer said, echoing my thoughts. He looked around for a place to spit before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Mitch is right. If Fannin objects, you’ll just have to blow his brains out and assume command,” I said.

  Tom was shocked, and so were my officers, but I was completely serious. Mostly.

  “Mark?” I summoned.

  Kellogg emerged into the lamplight, taking a place next to me. I had asked him in advance to provide an explanation, but he’d grown so smug that I immediately regretted it. Nevertheless . . .

  “Some of you know about the Alamo, but most of you don’t know what happened to Colonel Fannin,” Kellogg said, adopting a professorial air. “After receiving a plea for help from Travis, Fannin waited several days before starting out with three hundred volunteers. Fannin went a few hundred yards, had one of his wagons break down, and decided to turn back.”

  “Coward,” someone whispered.